


Sentimentality

by emmadilla



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Clothes swap, Established Relationship, F/M, Sharing Clothes, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 09:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17485523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmadilla/pseuds/emmadilla
Summary: While travelling in the Commonwealth, Deacon loses his bag of clothes, and we all know the spy can't go too long without swapping out his attire.





	Sentimentality

**Author's Note:**

> 30 Day OTP Challenge
> 
> Day 6: Clothes Swap
> 
> \-----
> 
> I mean, really, there was no other pairing in my mind for this, with how many times Deacon changes his freakin' clothes. Also, there will be a multi-chapter soulmate fic for this couple, but I figured no harm in pulling them off the shelf to play with for now. :)

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Laina deadpanned in disbelief.

 

Deacon watched her amusedly, the edges of his lips twitching as he resisted the urge to smile. “Not at all.”

 

“Seriously?” she asked again, cocking her hips as she settled a hand against it. “My clothes will barely fit you.”

 

He shrugged. “I’ve worked with worse. At least you’re not wearing a dress. Not that I’m opposed to dresses, but it’s been a while since I’ve shaved my legs, and they’re one of my best assets so I like them to look their best if I’m showing them off.”

 

The look of confusion as she processed what he said and the blush that coloured her cheeks was enough to break him as a grin spread across his face. With the way she pursed her lips, however, he knew that she was trying to hold back a smile of her own. “But why, though? You’ve changed your clothes at least three times already. Don’t you think this is a little … excessive?”

 

“Hey, being vigilant is never excessive. And if that mutant hound hadn’t carried off my damn bag, I wouldn’t even be asking you.” Sighing, he mustered his best pouty face for her and begged, “C’mon, Laina, _please_?”

 

She rolled her eyes, but with the way she sighed and shook her head, he knew he’d won, even without the soulmate bond that gave him an insight into her emotions. “ _Fine_ ,” she said as she gave in, unbuttoning her flannel shirt. “But try not to rip this, it’s one of my favourite shirts.”

 

Deacon couldn’t help but laugh as she threw it at him with as much force as she could muster. He pulled off his own long-sleeved shirt and tossed it over to her, knowing it would swallow her whole. They were similar enough in size that her shirt would only be a little tight, but his own shirt had been big even on him. On Laina? She just might drown. She knew it, too, as she stuck her tongue out at him before she slipped it on, the hem of the shirt easily coming to rest about mid-thigh on her. “So why is this your favourite?” he asked nonchalantly, though he was more curious than he let on. Using the excuse of unbuttoning and taking off her pants, she looked away, but Deacon could still feel the smattering of embarrassment coming through their bond. She mumbled her answer, garbling it so that he couldn’t quite hear it. “Sorry, couldn’t quite catch that,” he teased as he shucked off his own pants, tossing them to the floor by her feet as she finished removing her own.

 

Rolling her eyes, she sighed as she repeated, a little louder and clearer, “Because you gave it to me, okay?”

 

That gave him pause, one leg in her pants, as the information washed over him. Laina wasn’t exactly a sentimental person, she wasn’t the type to be wooed over by gifts or take particular joy in a nonsensical collection of trinkets with a random emotional connection to them. She was forever logical about things, hardly seeming to care about the loss of … well, _everything_ that had slipped through her fingers since she’d arrived in the Commonwealth. But this, a flannel shirt, was something she considered special? He finished buttoning up the pants, the thin sweats fitting him as tightly as a second skin, as he gently asked, “Why, though? I’ve given you tons of clothes since you came here. And food. And alcohol. Shit, even a house. Not that I care, mind you, I’m glad to. But what makes this one so special?”

 

Laina bit her lip as she pointedly refused to look in his direction, pulling on his looser fitting jeans that almost comically dragged on the floor. Her posture had subtly changed from before; instead of loose and comfortable, she was rigid and guarded. As an experienced spy, Deacon could easily see the way she stiffened, as if their bond wouldn’t have given it away. He didn’t even need it to read her like a book, it only served to confirm that she’d become decidedly uncomfortable with this line of conversation.

 

But discomfort was something that Deacon thrived in.

 

So instead of letting it drop, he approached her, careful of potential splinters in the abandoned house they currently inhabited as he walked barefoot. “Hey, c’mon now,” he said, softer, his voice low and gentle, “don’t shut me out. Talk to me.”

 

A lock of her light hair had fallen out of its long braid, and she tucked it behind her ear as she huffed gently. “I just … it was …” she began, but found it difficult to articulate her reasons. Deacon could sense the struggle, the conflict within her, and the stress sent a small shock of pain through her.

 

He moved immediately to relieve it, pulling her close and settling his hand against the top of her shoulder, exposed because of the way the wide neck hung on her frame. Her fingers slipped underneath the hem of the flannel, brushing against the bare skin of his hips, strengthening their connection. “Easy,” he murmured. “Relax. Take your time.”

 

She shuddered through a breath, settling herself before she admitted, “Because it was the very first thing you gave me. When I woke up, panicked, in Goodneighbor, had nothing but the thin clothes on my back … you came to me immediately, offered me some goddamn _stability_. It was just a shirt to you, but … it meant the world to me.”

 

Deacon grinned. Goddamn if Laina wasn’t more emotionally constipated than he was. He supposed it was what made them such a good match; they _grew_ together, forcing the other to come to terms with their hangups, to get uncomfortable, if they had to, in order to maintain their relationship. They still weren’t perfect, still had issues, but then again nothing was perfect and people would always have issues. But the little steps they took, the moments when one or the other let down their walls just a little bit more … it was worth it.

 

Kissing her forehead he told her, “C’mon, just about half a day’s journey back to Sanctuary, if we’re lucky.”

 

She snorted. “And since when are we ever lucky?”

 

“Oh, I dunno,” he mused, shooting her a radiant smile, “I think got pretty lucky when I met you.”


End file.
